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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804854">fire fire burning bright, death has claimed all at the outpost tonight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kivancalcite/pseuds/kivancalcite'>kivancalcite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Thing (1982)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Acceptance, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Death, Delirium, Explosions, Explosives, Fire, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Paranoia, Swearing, dude gets impaled, his friends are dead :), i mean it's kinda obvious but yeah, i wrote this for whumptober 2019 and now i will post it here, of his own death of course, suffering in the snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:01:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kivancalcite/pseuds/kivancalcite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows a little alteration when Mac blows up the Blair thing, but considering his physical and mental state, things just somehow get even worse. He knew it was inevitable, but he didn't want to die like this...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fire fire burning bright, death has claimed all at the outpost tonight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mac knew long before that none of what was left of the rest of his crew would survive, especially out in the Antarctic. And when he said what was left of his crew, he was keen on them not being the Thing. That could survive in these conditions - it was the whole point in making sure it could hibernate until help arrived.</p><p>Though he didn’t expect it to happen this way. He thought he’d die freezing in Antarctica with the power generator destroyed.</p><p>Not accidentally being caught in his attempt to destroy the station, and ergo, the Thing.</p><p>He’d planned to blow up the whole place with dynamite and fry the Thing that way. It was just unfortunate enough that paranoia and need to destroy this thing as soon as possible had made him considerably delirious, not to mention how much more he could feel the cold now. His senses were getting the better of him - it wasn’t usually like this until this whole shitshow ended up happening.</p><p>The appearance of Blair as one of those things had taken him by surprise, as well as having taken the detonator. At least he had some spare dynamite to take out this monster. He wanted to see the bright side of that, despite everything.</p><p>Sure, he was wearing generally the right gear in a place like this, but he never counted the generator being destroyed, let alone by some freakish thing. He wasn’t lying when he knew how cold and paranoid he felt - a horrible combination he never expected to feel - he just didn’t want to think about it.</p><p>He lit the last of his dynamite as the thing rose up in front of him with the most inhuman screeching sound. “<em>Yeah, well fuck you too!!</em>” he yelled, clearly pissed off. In that instant, he threw the dynamite.</p><p>It would’ve been great if his hands weren’t shaking even in his gloves, and the dynamite basically slipped out almost in front of him. Faced simultaneously with an explosion and an angry monstrous thing, he panicked, attempting to kick the lit dynamite towards the alien before turning to make a dash out of the nearest exit.</p><p>He heard the high pitched scream of the thing and felt the explosion behind him just far enough away to not get caught in it but just near enough to send him stumbling forward into the snow.</p><p>He lifted himself up a few seconds later when he was able to, but a sudden cry escaped from this throat as he felt a series of alternately sharp and dull pains across his back and legs. He was breathing rapidly, no thanks to the cold, and twisted himself around just enough to see what had happened.</p><p>“Awwww, <em>fuck</em>,” he grimly stated, almost instantly averting his eyes as he witnessed two shards of wood lodged right into the lower back of his legs. Even for someone with his demeanour, the cold was not enough to completely numb the sensation of some fucking shards of wood straight into his legs.</p><p>He agonisingly tried to sit up, twisting his legs around and trying to ignore the nagging pain in his side and back. He managed to shift himself upright and lean (albeit unsteadily) on his right arm, and felt horribly sick at the sudden sight of a considerably large piece impaled right through his left side. He leant his available arm around as far as he could go up his back. Also confirmed - a bunch of smaller shards were lodged in there too. </p><p>He almost fell forward again as every attempt to stay upright and restrain a great deal of shivering, pained sounds was plagued further by the fact he was even more witness to a whole bunch of wood shrapnel in his body. The area around where they had hit was darkened - in these conditions, he presumed his blood had frozen around the shards that were clearly stiffened in the wounds they had made. His attempts at pulling on the layers of his clothing or his trousers stung harshly and he grimaced, even going so far as to tug gently on them as if he couldn’t accept the reality of what had happened. </p><p>He swore under his breath and shut his eyes - it hurt like fuck, but the pain annoyed him more than anything. Sure, he knew he wouldn’t have escaped death, but at least he thought he could’ve made it out before the explosion really hit and avoided this sort of death. I mean, the thing in there was dead, right? But here he was, weak and lightheaded in the snow, practically impaled by the resulting debris and delirious with cold, pain and paranoia. It was still worth it, right? And now, what was left of the building he had just blown up in front of him was slowly burning away, and he stared blankly at it. </p><p>Now more than ever, he really needed some of that whiskey of his. Ignoring his whole reality, including the shrapnel that had hit him, was one thing, but at least with alcohol, maybe he could pretend better in these last futile moments. </p><p>
  <em>Maybe. <br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe just so all of this wasn’t the last thing he’d ever think about.  <br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’d be damned if it ever was.</em>
</p>
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